Charles Garvice

“ He smiled as if he himself had conferred the title of nobility on Derrick. "Well, this knocks me out. No more detective novels for me! Realism is my line for the future. And yet, what a novel it would make!"
"You shall write it some day, Reggie," said Derrick, with a smile.
"Some day?" retorted Reggie. "I'm going to write it at once! Come away, Lady Gridborough! This is no place for us," he added tactfully, and, taking her hand, he led the bewildered old lady out of the room, nodding, with a smile of intense gratification, over his shoulder at Derrick. ”

“ Do you understand, Donna Elvira?"
"It is not difficult," she said, with a faint smile. "The woman for whom you made so foolish, so wicked a sacrifice was not worthy of you. It is well that you should have forgotten her. This other girl—I do not know her; but I think she must be good and true."
"She's all that," said Derrick, fervently. "If you had seen only just as much of her as I have, you'd know that you were right. She is not a girl who would jilt a man who cared for her, to marry another man for his rank. She's good and true, as you say; as true as steel. ”

“ Again there was a pause, then Miriam asked brokenly,
"Heyton—my husband?"
"He has gone abroad," said Celia, hanging her head; "he will be away some time."
Miriam's lips moved; she whispered, at last,
"I understand!—I must leave here—at once. I will go back to my people or hide myself somewhere in London."
"Oh, go back to your people," said Celia. "I—I want to tell you how sorry the Marquess, all of us, are for you, how deeply we sympathise with your loss; it weighs upon us all."
"It need not do," said Miriam, with a touch of bitterness. "I have always been a stranger and an alien here. ”

“ I shall never open my lips—I want to go at once. Yes; I am quite strong enough. I want to go away from here—from you all. I want to be at rest, somewhere where I can try to forget. What a downfall! What a downfall!"
Celia, with the tears in her eyes, put her arm round the trembling form.
"Dear Lady Heyton," she murmured, "you must not give way. It may not be all as black as you think. And—and Derrick wishes me to tell you that your future—oh, how am I to put it!—that you will be well cared for; that you will have no need for anxiety about the future."
"Derrick!" breathed Miriam, ashamedly. ”

“ It may be noted, by the student of human nature, that neither of them had spoken of the woman for whom Derrick had been ready to sacrifice his good name, his life itself. Perfect love means perfect faith, and they were so sure of each other's love and faith, that it may be said neither of them gave the other woman a thought; and if they had done so, Celia would not have been jealous of the past, and Derrick would have regarded the boyish passion of which he had been so completely cured, as something nebulous and unimportant. ”

“ They shrilled their thanks and their love, and clamoured to him to remain; but Derrick wiped them off gently, as one wipes off a bunch of clinging bees, and promising to look them up as soon as he could, returned to the horses, which needed him quite as badly as did these humans.
"He's almost too good to be a man," murmured Alice, involuntarily, as her gaze followed him wistfully.
Isabel's dark eyes flashed, and her full and sensuous lips curved contemptuously.
"He's a man, every inch of him," she said. "He's the first man I've ever met in this god-forsaken world. ”

“ Ah, not all—will be lifted, if I can know that I shall, under Providence, leave the succession settled. You and I are old men, Wilfred—I am very near the grave. It is our duty to see, as far as lies within our power, that the future of the house is set upon a sound foundation. Your son, Derrick, will be a worthy successor; Celia—I need say nothing in her praise; she has won all our hearts, and she will lend a lustre to the title that will come to her. ”

“ Oh, Derrick, dearest, who is to tell her?"
"You," he said, gently. "No one can break it to her better than you can."
"Oh, must I? Oh, it will be hard for her."
"It will be hard, Celia; but no one can do it better than you. You will soften the blow. She will realise her debt to you, through me. Tell her that her future shall be cared for—but you know that I shall look after that. Celia, you, who are so quick, so acute, have divined the truth. It was for Miriam that I took on myself the forged cheque. ”

“ Now, let me see! He is fair, isn't he? Some names are appropriate to fair men, while others are more suitable to dark ones, don't you think so?"
She laughed; but there was no smile in Susie's eyes, as she turned and looked, moodily, at the baby, one of whose chubby hands was clasping Celia's finger.
"Let's think of some names," said Celia. "James! I don't like that, do you? Richard; no, that's a dark name. Percy; how would that do?"
It was almost impossible for the pale face to grow paler, and yet, for a moment, as the blue eyes fixed themselves on Celia, Susie's pallor increased. ”

“ Celia's brows drew together, and she looked as if she were somewhat embarrassed and puzzled by the question; at last, after a pause, she replied, woman-like,
"You don't look like one."
"Quite so," he said, with deeper irony. "That is essentially a feminine reason. Of course, your idea of a forger is the theatrical one; the gentleman with a Mephistophelian face, a sardonic sneer, evening dress, with a big cloak, and a cigarette in the corner of his mouth; the villain who looks every inch the part and says 'Curse you!' whenever it is possible to do so. ”

“ His brows came down again, his eyes grew piercing, his lips stern.
"Like whom?" he demanded, shortly.
"I don't know," she said, with a slight shrug; "that is why the portrait interests me so. If I could trace the resemblance, I should—well, not be so bothered by it."
The Marquess paced to the fire and held his hands to it, as if he had become cold suddenly.
"Strange!" he said, musingly, and with an air of indifference, which Celia felt to be assumed. "Is the man you think resembles the portrait young—or old?" ”

“ Not a word had been said by either Celia or he of the graceful, richly-dressed woman she had seen leaving his room. Of course, she was the woman who had wrecked his life. Celia began to piece the story together; they had loved each other—at any rate, he had loved her—probably for years; he had loved her with all his heart, and she with, perhaps, a small half; she had thrown him over to marry a wealthy man—and yet, that theory seemed scarcely consistent; for a wealthy man would not need to commit forgery. ”

“ Celia noted the petulant droop of the almost perfect lips, the faint lines of weariness which trailed from the corners of them, noted the weakness of the chin, the restlessness of the blue eyes which shone like amethysts in the firelight; it was evident to Celia that this beautiful, graceful young creature was not a happy woman. She did not know how much, since her marriage, Miriam had deteriorated, mentally and spiritually. One cannot touch pitch and escape undefiled. ”

“ Dexter's and she had heard Mrs. Dexter's cry of horror, and had darted out to learn what it meant. Mrs. Dexter went to the bed, gently and unconsciously putting Miriam aside, and bent over the motionless form.
"He is not dead," she said, in a whisper.
"Oh, thank God!" broke from Miriam's white lips, and she turned to Celia and grasped her arm. "Oh, I'm glad you've come; I'm glad you are here!" she sobbed. "I'm all alone—oh, I'm glad you are here! Do you think he is not dead?"
"Mrs. Dexter will know," said Celia, trying to control her voice. "Don't be frightened, don't get worried, Lady Heyton. ”

“ The chorus girl smiled back, and even the grim old lady's frown relaxed as she bowed in stately fashion.
"I'm so happy, that I could shake hands with everybody," said Celia. "I feel as if I must make friends with everyone I meet."
Then suddenly the happiness fled from her face, her eyes grew dark and sad; for at that instant she thought of the young man, the fugitive flying from justice. ”

“ Clendon, quietly, "I am convinced. I could not tell you why; let us say that it is because your lover's face is not that of a guilty man. Besides," he added, with the ghost of a smile, "a man does not walk about a wood with a stolen jewel-case under his arm—if he himself is the thief."
"Of course!" cried Celia, stopping short, her face lighting up. "No one would be such a fool—least of all Sydney," she added, more to herself than to him, "who is so clever."
"Exactly," said Mr. Clendon. "So you see, my child, you have nothing to be alarmed about. Here is the Hall!" ”

“ Presently she heard a faint, almost inaudible knock at her door; she rose quickly and opened it a little way; no one was standing outside, the corridor was empty; but she heard someone descending the stairs below her. She took a few steps out and looked down.
It was he. At the bend of the stairs, he paused and looked up; the light of the murky, wire-globed gas-jet fell on him and she saw the pallor of his face; saw something else, something that remained with her while life lasted—a look, that expression in his eyes, for which many a woman has been willing to give body and soul. ”

“ On the bank adjoining the pathway was seated Lady Gridborough; her hat was on one side, her face was flushed, her mantle dusty and disarranged; but her good-natured face was wreathed in smiles as she watched a young man, standing beside the Exmoor pony and attempting to keep it from rearing and plunging.
"Oh, whatever is the matter?" demanded Celia, as she ran forward.
Lady Gridborough looked up, laughed, and wiped her eyes.
"Good morning, my dear," she said; "you've come just in time to enjoy a little comedy." She nodded at the young man and the frisking pony. ”

“ A week later Celia was crouching over her fireless grate. The Wolf was no longer outside the door, but beside her, his red eyes watching her balefully, his cruel teeth showing between his mowing jaws. The hunger, for which the overfed rich man longs in vain, was gnawing at her; she was penniless and well-nigh starving; no longer did she regard the little chorus girl in the floor below her with tender pity and sympathy, but with envy; she knew now how rich she had been with her pound a week. ”

“ There came a knock at the door, and she opened it to an old man with a frame so attenuated that it appeared to be absolutely fleshless. His hair was white and almost touching his shoulders, and his face so colourless and immobile that it looked as if it were composed of wax; but the dark eyes under the white, shaggy brows were full of life, and piercing.
"Oh, good evening, Mr. Clendon!" said Celia, in the tone a woman uses when she is really pleased, and not affecting to be pleased, at the advent of a visitor. "Come in." ”

“ You knew him by the name of Derrick Dene."
Miriam did not start; but the pallor of her face increased, and her tear-swollen eyes fixed themselves with a kind of wan wonder and shame on Celia.
"Derrick Dene!" she echoed, faintly.
"Yes," murmured Celia; and, as briefly and gently as she could, she told Miriam of Derrick's recent experiences. Miriam's hands went up to her face; but they dropped into her lap again and she looked before her and said, in a stricken voice,
"I see you know everything. Yes, it was Heyton, my husband, who forged the cheque; I know it now: he is capable of—anything." ”

“ But I happen to be one of those few men who realise that the treasures I have spoken of are not for them. In the words of the poet, 'I worship Miss Grant from afar.' I kneel at her feet, metaphorically, in the adoration that has no hope of response or reward. If I am any judge of character—which I beg you to believe I am—you, my friend, are not placed in the same category; judging by the salient characteristics of your countenance, I should say that you hope most considerably."
"You certainly are a most extraordinary young man," said Derrick; "and your candour is somewhat overwhelming. ”

“ Derrick rose painfully on his elbow.
"By Heaven, Sidcup," he said, in the stifled voice of a man who is deeply moved, "you're a good chap; and, if I go, it will be for your sake. I'd rather cut this hand off than come between a man and the girl he loves."
"Yes, and there's another reason," said Sidcup, with a shake of the head. "Isabel's not the only one; there's Alice." ”

“ Derrick, speechless for a moment, stared at him; then he nodded.
"Quite so," said Reggie, with an air of satisfaction. "Oh, I don't want to know the reason; I just wanted my surmise confirmed. And, by George! I commend your judgment; for, if there was ever an individual in this world an honest man might wish to avoid, it is the gentleman I have mentioned."
With this, he walked off; and Derrick sat for some time in a state of amazement at the quaintness—and, be it added, the acuteness—of his new acquaintance. ”

“ Dexter remonstrated.
"Oh, but you don't know how much I love it," pleaded Celia. "The moment I leave the library I want to get back to it. You see, I'm mad on books, and this work of mine is a labour of love; the very touch of some of these old volumes thrills me. And there are so many of them; sometimes I feel that I shall never get through my task, if I live to be ninety."
"You'll soon look like ninety, my dear, if you don't take more exercise," observed Mrs. Dexter, wisely. "I am sure his lordship would be grieved if he knew you were working so hard. ”

“ Derrick's pale face flushed. "There are reasons why I can't marry any woman, Sidcup," he said. "No, I can't tell you them, but you can take it from me that they exist. No, I'm not married already," he added, with a grim smile, as he saw the question in Sidcup's eyes. "The fact is, I'm an outcast and a pariah. Sounds melodramatic, doesn't it? But it's the truth. And you can tell Isabel so, if you like."
Sidcup laughed bitterly.
"Do you think that would make any difference to her?" he retorted. "You don't know much about women——"
"I don't!" interjected Derrick. ”

“ But they say a woman is always ten years older than a man of the same age. I suppose that is why you always have us under your thumbs. No, I'm not trifling. Don't you see that I am fighting for time, that I am trying not to think, that I am putting the thing from me as far as I can, even for a few minutes. Immediately you go, I shall have to face it all again, and—alone. You have been very good to me; you don't think I am ungrateful, because I—I play the fool?"
"Don't play it any longer, then," said Celia, earnestly. "Make up your mind to do the right thing. Why should you ruin yourself? ”